(no subject)
Some of my poetry.
The sun washes up in the sky
Bright lights mock me, burn little holes like stocking runs on my eyes
Sometimes I want to bleed you all out,
Have Gulliver lead me home
Sometimes I want the earth to swallow me, burn me all up to dust
And I won't deal with you and your thoughts
And I wouldn't deal with me and my lies
And I won't watch the sun
Wash up in the sky
A soft creature curls up in the space behind my knees
Twitching lightly in her sleep,
Little fawn legs running in a dream
She is my savior and She is my God,
She who sleeps in warm places, mews and
Lulls her tongue in white milk
She who scratches at my door
And sometimes I want to bleed you all out, have Gulliver lead me home
Bright lights mock me
and Run like Dancer's stockings on my eyes
I'll hold my head like he held the earth,
And I'll burn all your wicks to ash
I want to bleed you all out and have Gulliver lead me home.
She weeps,
mother
She, the bulbous queen bee
Dollops of heavy tear thomp to
the feathered dirt ground
that blankets her only son -
She makes haggard animal noises
Muffled by a
birthfriend's shoulder
like a sock in her throat
She cries, too pained to wonder
how little white pills could
render her only son
lifeless -
His bones do not stir underground
She will never watch him
Run
again
and all of his awkward
adolescent dreams leak from him -
soaked up by dirt
His childish jives
cease
as she had always requested
and somehow the air feels
too clear
without him coughing in it
She was born in August -
The empty - armed woman with leaves in her hair,
and no words in her mouth...
Slender and free,
she will hypnotize you.
Her hair on fire, she falls backwards through time
So brilliantly unafraid of her sadness
She moves like disaster
Skin on bone; she knows her effect on you.
Your legs are streaks of stars that dangle from the moon
Pale and faint - hearted, like a saint, you cry tears that spin out into space
The small suns around you
burn and their sawdust sparkles in your hair
You reach out a long arm and slide to an empty spot;
and you light up; you shimmer and shine, and melt into a star.
I am a river run dry -
I am a butchered tree
I am your unpleasant thoughts -
I am your child's skinned knee.
What do you expect from me?
Why you look for pleasure in pain
Is beyond all logic I see
But still you insist,
You chase the flame
Then cry when I burn you and flee.
Understand, you are choosing me.
A blue sun, frying like an egg in a purple cloud-shocked sky,
Melting and dripping and raining
Into lakes of green below
That stir and swallow the drops,
Staining their original colors
and sinking to the bottom with rocks and lungless birds.
Underlash moons, like eyes bruised
Black and gaping like a skull
that doesn't know it's dead and never buried...
Pick up her bones, and brush the soft smooth dirt crumbles
So that they flake off and fall to the ground in spirals.
The sun washes up in the sky
Bright lights mock me, burn little holes like stocking runs on my eyes
Sometimes I want to bleed you all out,
Have Gulliver lead me home
Sometimes I want the earth to swallow me, burn me all up to dust
And I won't deal with you and your thoughts
And I wouldn't deal with me and my lies
And I won't watch the sun
Wash up in the sky
A soft creature curls up in the space behind my knees
Twitching lightly in her sleep,
Little fawn legs running in a dream
She is my savior and She is my God,
She who sleeps in warm places, mews and
Lulls her tongue in white milk
She who scratches at my door
And sometimes I want to bleed you all out, have Gulliver lead me home
Bright lights mock me
and Run like Dancer's stockings on my eyes
I'll hold my head like he held the earth,
And I'll burn all your wicks to ash
I want to bleed you all out and have Gulliver lead me home.
She weeps,
mother
She, the bulbous queen bee
Dollops of heavy tear thomp to
the feathered dirt ground
that blankets her only son -
She makes haggard animal noises
Muffled by a
birthfriend's shoulder
like a sock in her throat
She cries, too pained to wonder
how little white pills could
render her only son
lifeless -
His bones do not stir underground
She will never watch him
Run
again
and all of his awkward
adolescent dreams leak from him -
soaked up by dirt
His childish jives
cease
as she had always requested
and somehow the air feels
too clear
without him coughing in it
She was born in August -
The empty - armed woman with leaves in her hair,
and no words in her mouth...
Slender and free,
she will hypnotize you.
Her hair on fire, she falls backwards through time
So brilliantly unafraid of her sadness
She moves like disaster
Skin on bone; she knows her effect on you.
Your legs are streaks of stars that dangle from the moon
Pale and faint - hearted, like a saint, you cry tears that spin out into space
The small suns around you
burn and their sawdust sparkles in your hair
You reach out a long arm and slide to an empty spot;
and you light up; you shimmer and shine, and melt into a star.
I am a river run dry -
I am a butchered tree
I am your unpleasant thoughts -
I am your child's skinned knee.
What do you expect from me?
Why you look for pleasure in pain
Is beyond all logic I see
But still you insist,
You chase the flame
Then cry when I burn you and flee.
Understand, you are choosing me.
A blue sun, frying like an egg in a purple cloud-shocked sky,
Melting and dripping and raining
Into lakes of green below
That stir and swallow the drops,
Staining their original colors
and sinking to the bottom with rocks and lungless birds.
Underlash moons, like eyes bruised
Black and gaping like a skull
that doesn't know it's dead and never buried...
Pick up her bones, and brush the soft smooth dirt crumbles
So that they flake off and fall to the ground in spirals.